She Is Her Father's Daughter

It stands to reason that Alex contains a little bit of both Marcus and me in her.  While she clearly got my good looks I think she may have gotten her father's uncanny ability to hurt himself in just about everything he does.  How I have not written about this in previous posts is beyond me but if you know Marcus then you know he's infamous for crashing into walls and breaking bones.  Balls to the wall is what I like to call it, and that's apparently how both Marcus and Alex live their lives.  Balls.  To the wall.

The next series of events all happened about a week ago and to be perfectly honest with you it's a miracle we didn't end up in the emergency room at some point.

The morning started off pretty typical with one exception and that was Marcus and I wanted to get to Ikea first thing in the morning to price their closet systems.  So, we all woke up, ate some breakfast, and then headed upstairs to take showers.  I wanted Alex to take a shower with me because she hadn't had a bath the night before and she was a little stinky.  Somehow in the process of turning the shower on a huge puddle formed in the middle of the floor (seriously, I have no idea how it happened) and, I'm sure you can see where this is going, Alex slipped in it and landed smack on her head.  That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day.

Later, at Ikea, we found the cutest table and chairs perfect for Alex that cost all of $20.  Even Marcus was like, how can we not buy it to which I replied, "are you feeling well?"  Anyway, we bought the set and when we got home Marcus put it together and we all sat around it eating our lunch.  After lunch Alex decided the table and chairs were more worthy of being a jungle gym and she pushed the table around some and fell one of the chairs onto its back.  She then proceeded to climb around in the other chair, despite our warnings not to, giving us her sh*t eating grin that she's become so famous for.  And, again, I'm sure you can see where this is going, she promptly fell out of her chair and went eye first into the leg of the chair she had upended just moments earlier.  Her eyebrow immediately swelled and turned red with a hint of purple and we tried to help by putting ice on it but that's like trying to put ice on a, well, a toddler.  It's just not happening.  Needless to say, it was pretty red and, over the course of the last few days, has turned purple and is currently at the yellowish-greenish stage. 

After the eye incident, we all calmed down and I went upstairs to freshen up for a BBQ and Alex and her Dada went into the office to set-up her table and chairs in there.  At some point during this time I heard a thud and immediate wailing but really, by then, unless Marcus himself was freaking out I wasn't too concerned about what had happened and it wasn't until later that I found out Alex took another head dive off the chair.  I never could have imagined learning how to sit in a chair was such a complicated process.

Finally, to cap the day off, we were at a friend's BBQ and Alex took a nice little slider on their stone patio which left some great scratches up her shins.  I won't even go into detail about how she nearly froze her arm off in a bucket of ice water to the point where she freaked out but that happened, too.  Anyway, I can only imagine what the ladies at her daycare must have thought on Monday morning when they saw the black eye, skinned shins, and possible signs of hypothermia (especially given the 100+ temperatures outside).  God, I hope CPS doesn't come knocking at our door.  If they do, maybe if I show them the picture of Marcus when he broke his eye socket they'll understand what I'm dealing with.

Also, pictures to follow for a comparison shot...I just don't have the capability to upload anything right now because Marcus ran off with all of the USB cables probably in an attempt to not have his broken eye socket debacle relived (which in the end wasn't nearly as bad as the broken shoulder).

Exercise Like A Toddler

Plank, a verb:  The plank...is an isometric core strength exercise that involves maintaining a difficult position for extended periods of time. The most common plank is the front plank which is held in a push-up position with the body's weight borne on forearms, elbows, and toes (Wikipedia).

Before I had Alex I could do planks until the cows came home.  Obviously, I'm not doing any planks, or much of anything, at this exact moment but there is someone in the house who does them on almost a regular basis.  Alexandra.

I don't think she's doing them in an effort to strengthen her core and get a svelte physique but good on her if she is.  Generally speaking, she executes this particular move during times she is in the greatest of distress which is no small feat in itself.  I'm thoroughly amazed at the strength she has as she drops into the perfect plank position, all while crying hysterically, then lifts one arm up in what is typically a difficult move.  She continues crying and lifting her arm as she then extends a leg behind her, up and in the air.  I marvel at how long she's able to hold her position and wonder if I can ever attain such physical greatness.  She truly is an inspiration.  I also wonder if I had more breakdowns like hers if a) I would get more attention and b) I would also have a core of steel.  I'll have to try it the next time something doesn't go my way.

After emulating Alex's plank routine I'll have to practice her squats because she must seriously have Lolo Jones' thighs underneath that baby fat.  She'll hold a squat for minutes as she plays with something near the ground and maybe that's the key.  Maybe keeping your attention averted elsewhere helps take your mind off the searing pain shooting through your thighs the longer you hold the squat.  So, next time I'm squatting I'll be sure to find a distraction like an ant or something shiny or whatever it is that catches Alex's eye and holds her perplexed for what seems like hours.

I never thought I'd say this but I hope to one day have the body of a 16 month old, minus the baby fat.  And taller.  And less babyish.  And maybe more in the boobs and hips department...in fact a lot more.  So, really, nothing at all like a 16 month old although I would appreciate her energy and dedication to her health.

Hey, Unnamed Man I Live With

You want to know one way to really piss off an already frantic wife/mom/employee who is trying her best to get out the door on time?  Leave her with a car that has no gas.  *ahem*  I won't name any names but I think we can all assume it's not Alexandra who is to blame for this one.

Bring On The Cake!

Well, it's official.  This pregnancy trumps my pregnancy with Alexandra.  I took the glucose screening test on Monday and passed so there will not be a three hour Bloody Torture Test (that's the official name) for me.  Huzzah!  Although, the phlebotomist did a real number on my arm and seemed to have popped the vein which is just disgusting to think about.  It gives me the shivers.

Also, this baby trumps Alexandra as a fetus (not that I'm picking favorites...yet).  This baby is more of a roller-arounder than a kicker and puncher.  Whereas Alex was downright vicious at times, this baby just kind of lolls around, occasionally getting spurts of high energy, but very seldom do they kick or punch.  So, provided this baby stays put for just a little bit longer than Alexandra did, this will have been the perfect pregnancy.

My Life

For posterity sake, and so that one day I can look back and think to myself "And I thought I was busy then," because I know that will happen once children are older and more activities are scheduled, I will write down a typical day for myself:

5:00 AM - Marcus's alarm goes off, I contemplate how to murder him and dispose of the body but decide trying to fall back asleep is a better idea

6:15 AM - My own alarm goes off though it's questionable whether I physically get up

6:30 AM - Get up and jump in the shower like an idiot who just wasted 15 precious minutes she didn't have, get dressed and put-on what little make-up is necessary to look somewhat alive, realize that the clock is ticking and my hair is put on the back-burner again (this comes back to bite me in the a$$ when halfway through the day I look in the mirror and realize the Bride of Frankenstein has been walking around), wake-up Alex (if she isn't already), go downstairs to get her milk because she's a frickin' milk junkie and needs her fix ASAP, go back upstairs and change Alex's diaper then get her dressed while chasing her down the hall as she flings her milk around which stains my work clothes but who has time to change at this point?

7:20 AM (if we're lucky) - Go back downstairs, I swallow breakfast whole or make something (i.e. toast) for the road all while trying to get Alex to eat something which generally consists of a banana that she promptly smashes into her clothes, pack Alex's daycare bag, make my lunch, then load about a million bags in the car all while trying to remember Alex is still in her highchair

7:40 AM - Finally leave the house (maybe...that's on a good day)

7:50 AM - Drop Alex off at daycare

8:30(ish) AM - Arrive at work half an hour late as usual, also try to remember how I got there

4:30 PM - Leave work

5:15 PM - Pick-up Alex from daycare, inquire if she had any meltdowns (she did), empathize with the teachers and hope that isn't indicative of how the rest of the evening will proceed (it is)

5:30 PM - Arrive at home and begin making dinner right away, Alex begins her epic meltdown routine at this exact moment which consists of a plank while crying hysterically, I ponder how she doesn't have amazing abs then resume cooking and attempting to discover the source of Alex's displeasure, assume her breakdown is because she needs her milk fix which I procure and which solves the problem up until she somehow dumps the entire cup on herself, strip Alex down and set her loose to continue cooking and keeping an ear out for trouble as the half naked baby wanders the house crying

6:00 PM - Put something on the table (Lord knows what...Alex's pants might be in there somewhere for all I know) and watch as Alex either eats heartily or chews it, spits it out, then throws all of it on the floor in her way of giving dinner her own special "two thumbs up/down" rating

6:30 PM - Bathe Alex and get her ready for bed which may or may not lead to a complete break-down again,  depending on whether break-down occurs or not either sit on the couch staring blankly at the wall as she throws herself around on the floor crying hysterically or get an opportunity to love on her and play with her for the first time all day

7:45 PM - Begin the bedtime routine of brushing Alex's teeth, reading a book, then nite-nite time, again, we're walking on eggshells at this point and this may or may not end well depending on if I can trick her into bed without a milk fix which usually works as long as Dada doesn't gallantly show up from his activities at the exact moment I'm putting her to sleep and pokes his head in the door so he can at least "see" Alex for the first time that day

8:00 PM - If nite-nite time ends well then clean-up the house from where Alex left her carnage, clean-up the kitchen and whatever dinner turned out to be, possibly find dried cat vomit and clean that up, then try and tackle various other chores that can be accomplished in a small amount of time.  If nite-nite time did not end well all cleaning is put aside for figuring out how to pacify Alex which, generally speaking is, you guessed it, milk

9:00 PM - Get myself ready for bed

9:15 PM - Finally sit down on the couch in an attempt to completely zone out and wonder what's on TV which is nothing so, for about an hour, scroll through the channels not ever finding anything worth spending more than five minutes on

10:00 PM - Go to bed to start the day over in 8 hours.  The End.

None of this includes Marcus's 12 hour work days (which are only going to get longer in the next few weeks) or his soccer, volleyball, or flying lessons schedule and nor does it include my weekly ballet lesson.  It also doesn't include the fact that both of us are in school, Marcus for his Doctorate in Engineering and me for my Bachelor of Psychology.  This also doesn't include the standard household chores, home repairs, vehicle maintenance, or lawn maintenance that all need to take place during the weekend (maybe) (and no, there is still not a bathroom, thanks for rubbing it in).

Needless to say, life is busy and needless to say because of that some things may fall to the way-side because I barely have time to scratch my butt.  The other day Marcus remarked that we rarely speak of the new baby to which I almost laughed.  No sh*t, considering the only chance I get to spend time with Marcus is when we're sleeping next to each other let alone hold a conversation.

So, there you have it.  My life, written down in 800 words or less.

When It Rains It Pours

About two weeks ago our area was hit by what is called a "derecho" which, if you're too lazy to click on the link I've provided, I understand to be defined as a land hurricane...whatever that means.  Our house fared well and we never lost power during the 10 minute onslaught of wind and rain but it was the first time I ever considered running down into the basement for safety.  Instead, I found myself nervously hovering around the foyer, holding onto a sleepy Alexandra who I'm sure felt my anxiety, and readying to bolt at any given second.  Once the worst of it seemed to be over I took Alex back upstairs and nervously checked my phone over and over again for signs of another storm all while praying Marcus, who was driving home from Ohio, made it home safely which he did.

This is all to say that the house we dwell in was lucky as were the occupants.  The house we own in Dahlgren was not so lucky.  A giant tree split into three pieces and came crashing down around it, destroying the AC unit which is unfortunate because we just had one whole week of above 100 degree temperatures.  Luckily, nobody was hurt and there was relatively minor damage to the house itself.  Despite how minor the damage was though has resulted in a $12,500 bill.  That's right.  Twelve thousand five hundred dollars.

Who has that kind of money?  I don't know anyone (personally) who has money like that lying around.  So, I've come up with ways to make that money.

First, I've already sold Alexandra into child labor.  Those tiny little fingers have got to be good for something and it's about time she started bringing in her fair share anyway.

Second, I have resigned myself to hooking.  I feel like it's a market previously unexplored in our area and as such could be a really lucrative career choice for me.

Third, given Marcus's previous history in college (think Magic Mike but on a considerably less grander scale) I have decided he will need to seek a second job as a male stripper.  He can't give up his day job because that pays very well and we'll need as much cash flowing as possible.  The problem is he's lost a lot of weight recently due to his job being so busy and his "forgetting" to eat (seriously, I hate men) so he'll have to beef up but other than that I think he'll find a second job isn't all that bad.

That's it.  My three, fail-proof ways to make some extra money and pay for the repairs to the house.  If Marcus had his way he'd do all of the work himself but I've tried to make it known that not having a bathroom or closet is becoming unacceptable...and I think he's finally starting to listen.  Maybe.  Probably not.  Hell, who am I kidding?  He's not listening.

Ouch!

So, Baby T has found a new place to chill, and by chill I mean unexpectedly punch and/or kick repeatedly, and that is directly above my belly button.  The first time I felt it this morning it took me by such surprise that I audibly gasped.  What the heck are you doing in there?!  It's time to calm down.  Nite, nite time. 

You'll Never Believe This One...Then Again, You Probably Will

It should probably not come as a surprise to those of you who follow me on Facebook what this post is about.

Yes, Marcus got a new (to us) jet ski.  A friend was looking to sell his mid-80s jet ski and instead offered to give it to Marcus for free.  Naturally, Marcus, being Marcus, could not refuse this enticing offer despite the fact we have a baby due to be born in early October, Alex's new bedroom needs to be painted and put together, the master bathroom needs to be finished as it currently consists of nothing but tile, and the master closet needs to be finished as it currently consists of all of the tools being used to work on the master bathroom.  Also, might I add that the only person who could possibly even get any enjoyment out of said jet ski is the only person who could possibly even take care of all the aforementioned projects (not including the new baby part...I am all over that one).

Marcus has a propensity to acquire things for the shear sake of acquiring them despite there often being very good reasons not to do so and then they become projects that take the place of more important projects and to be honest, they never really take flight anyway as evidenced here...here...here...and here.  Pretty much all of the linked blog posts are about the other jet ski in our life.  After doing the search for those posts it occurred to me that I never once wrote a blog post about the time, a few weeks after Alexandra was born, when Marcus went out and purchased a new (to us) Jeep Wrangler.  Because that's what a new family of three needed at the time, an old, rusty Jeep Wrangler that only Marcus or I could drive separately but never together because there was no way in hell I'd put my brand new baby in that thing.  Heck, I wouldn't put her in it now.  I digress.

Despite my attempts at being the coolest pregnant woman you'll ever meet and despite my attempts to not throw the pregnancy card out there at every chance I get this pregnant woman is really, really starting to freak the f*** out.  There is a lot of work to be done in a very short amount of time and I'm banking on going to term with this pregnancy despite my previous history.  God help us if this baby comes early, too.  God help Marcus if he goes out, gallivanting around on a jet ski when work on the bathroom and closet could be done.  Oh yeah, that's a threat.